[--A letter which comes to Caspar, smelling of seawater, via an exceptionally short dwarf. The letter itself has been closed with wax and, once opened, is written in code. But code Caspar knows. Old, simple, easy for him to decipher. This is Nikos' version of nostalgia, using old codes.]
[Nikos, sitting on the low half wall some distance away, offers this deeply helpful critique. He's fine. It's a little too sunny for his taste, out here in the courtyard, but Caspar had suggested practicing at this out of doors, that it might be good for a change of pace.
So Nikos had cooperated with that suggestion. Grumbled, acted as if he wouldn't show up, purely on principal, but cooperated.
He has known Caspar for three years now. He could give an exact account of the date, but it wouldn't be the grand romantic gesture that it might seem, it would instead be Nikos, good with dates and figures and numbers. Nikos, who does (despite how he professes to be suspect of romance) remember the first time that he saw Caspar Perakis. He went home and wrote a letter to Marisol about it.
But now they have known each other three years. Training at knives for the better part of a year, but still, Caspar can look clumsy when holding the blade. And clumsy looks strange on Caspar. It doesn't fit his frame, or any part of him. Nikos could, almost, feel superior. But he doesn't, and isn't. Instead he takes another sip of wine from the cup he had brought out here--because it is always better to be drunk--and gestures with it.]
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ye olde text aka a letter
C --
Lɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ʜᴇʀᴇ. Yᴏᴜʀ ʟᴀsᴛ ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ɪɴᴅɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ Kɪʀᴋᴡᴀʟʟ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ. Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ʙᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. I ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴜᴘ. Vᴇʀʏ, ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ. As ᴏʀɢᴀɴɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ sᴛʀɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ ɢᴏ, ᴛʜᴇ Iɴǫᴜɪsɪᴛɪᴏɴ ʜᴀs ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴏꜰꜰᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ.
Pᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴡᴀʀꜰ ᴄᴀʀʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ. Hᴇ ɪs sᴜʀᴘʀɪsɪɴɢʟʏ ᴛʀᴜsᴛᴡᴏʀᴛʜʏ. Nᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʜᴇ ɪs ᴀ ᴅᴡᴀʀꜰ ʙᴜᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʜᴇ ɪs ꜰʀᴏᴍ Kɪʀᴋᴡᴀʟʟ.
-- N
ye olde left on read
ye olde irritated face emoji
(no subject)
(no subject)
letter sending makes for expensive shitposting
worth it imo
(no subject)
i already hate your icons
whose icons tho
also romantic dates learning how to use daggers
[Nikos, sitting on the low half wall some distance away, offers this deeply helpful critique. He's fine. It's a little too sunny for his taste, out here in the courtyard, but Caspar had suggested practicing at this out of doors, that it might be good for a change of pace.
So Nikos had cooperated with that suggestion. Grumbled, acted as if he wouldn't show up, purely on principal, but cooperated.
He has known Caspar for three years now. He could give an exact account of the date, but it wouldn't be the grand romantic gesture that it might seem, it would instead be Nikos, good with dates and figures and numbers. Nikos, who does (despite how he professes to be suspect of romance) remember the first time that he saw Caspar Perakis. He went home and wrote a letter to Marisol about it.
But now they have known each other three years. Training at knives for the better part of a year, but still, Caspar can look clumsy when holding the blade. And clumsy looks strange on Caspar. It doesn't fit his frame, or any part of him. Nikos could, almost, feel superior. But he doesn't, and isn't. Instead he takes another sip of wine from the cup he had brought out here--because it is always better to be drunk--and gestures with it.]
Your elbow especially. You always drop it.
['Always'. But he does.]
(no subject)
tags this back even though we're in a game together now ooh lah lah